


A fairytale

by Evans3



Category: Evillious Chronicles
Genre: Allen doesn't actually appear, But we all know that's him at the end, Gen, Only my writing style sucks right now, This is literally the Daughter of Evil rewritten in my own writing style, Which would be good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evans3/pseuds/Evans3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, in a place far away<br/>There was an evil kingdom that had somehow gone astray<br/>And the one ruler of this foul, awful scene<br/>Was a young queen of only age fourteen</p><p>(So the story begins.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A fairytale

Somewhere far away, in a land across the sea, there is a golden kingdom. A kingdom built up on precious stones. A kingdom of beauty and sin, vanity and despair.  
The kingdom is ruled by a child queen, a little girl, twirling around her palace in her rich, lavish gowns as she smiles and laughs down at the common folk about her, people who may never be as beautiful and blessed as she is.  
The queen's only virtue is her love of herself.  
Her one true vice is her pride.  
She stares into her four mirrors, seeing her own face reflected back at her so many times, at so many different angles, yet still herself, and she laughs her clear, angelic laugh, because she knows- no matter if she is alone in the world, no matter if she is hated, no matter if her golden throne is lonely and cold, she will always have herself. And that is all she will ever need.  
"Now on your knees, you foolish peasants-"  
All hail the queen.

 

They say the tyrant queen is in love. They say her heart, her vain, treacherous, blackened heart, has been captured- by none other than a prince, a handsome young man with eyes as deep blue as the stormy sea.  
Exactly like it is in the stories. A lovely maiden and her dashing prince.  
But not all stories are alike, and in this one, the prince's heart happens to be spoken for (A tragedy for the queen, but who, indeed, would care?)  
A simple peasant girl, a girl from a village of green. That is who he loves, and though he is a brave man, the prince is foolish to so boldly declare his love for the girl. Everybody knows-  
Nobody denies the queen what she desires and lives to tell the tale.

 

The queen has gone mad. Mad with jealousy and hate.  
She sits in her palace and broods, surrounded by her golden mirrors and shadowy reflections. Some say that she weeps when she is alone.  
Her best warriors have all been sent off to the village of green. They go with cruel, sharp blades and an oath on their lips-  
"By order of the queen, none shall be spared."  
When they arrive, they stain their silver blades red and flood the streets with crimson. An ugly, blackened crimson that spreads and stains, twisting souls and tainting hearts, a crimson that seeps into the earth all the way to the golden kingdom to wet the queen's hands with red.  
Houses burn, men and women scream, children cry out in fear, and their voices rise up to the sky in a desperate plea for mercy.  
Yet the golden kingdom, where the prideful queen sits upon her throne with her mirrors in her hands, is a place where their prayers will never reach.  
The church bells outside chime, announcing three O'clock.  
In the far away village, another innocent life is lost.  
The queen smiles.  
"Oh, it's time for tea."

 

She is a flower, a beautiful, sinful flower, blooming at the summit of the kingdom.

 

Whispers spread around the kingdom, whispers of the queen's vice, whispers of revolution, whispers of a swordswoman in red armor who will lead them to victory. The whispers rise into shouts, the shouts into battle cries, and the red swordswoman, the blood warrior, is no longer a myth.  
Sorrow.  
Anger.  
Hate.  
All are powerful emotions, as the queen herself demonstrated.  
"Even if I am alone, as long as I have myself, I will not despair." That was what she said, once upon a time.  
And in the end, she is truly alone.  
Revolutionaries in the streets call for her blood, a thousand flashing blades surround her deserted palace. Oaths of loyalty from her soldiers and guards mean nothing now. No servants will stay to save the life of such a tyrannical mistress.  
The warrior bursts into the queen's chamber, her armor dripping red upon the white marble floor, and lays her sword to the queen's neck.  
As she is seized, the queen's face contorts in fury- kicking and clawing and screaming herself hoarse, like the fourteen year old child she is- but there is nothing for her to do.  
"The tyrant queen, she is captured at last!" 

 

The palace is destroyed. The throne is deserted. The queen is in prison. In a dark, damp cell she sits, dirtying her fine silk gown, waiting out the long, tedious days by staring out the barred window as the people outside decide on her fate.  
Once, the prince, her beloved blue prince who worked side by side with the red warrior in the revolution, passes by her cell.  
She does not look at him.

 

The queen is to die.  
At the guillotine.  
The execution time is decided as three O'clock in the afternoon.  
The people rejoice. 

 

When the fated time arrives, she is led to the guillotine, hands tied behind her back. Her gown is tattered and soiled from her time in prison, her golden hair is tangled and matted, and her face is white as bone. At first glance, it is impossible to believe that a few days ago she was the monarch of this kingdom, but her head is held high, her blue gaze full of icy scorn and she walks slowly, slowly, slowly, forcing her guards to match her pace. Her pride still remains.  
Men and women and children, all have gathered to watch the end of the queen's reign, to watch the blade fall down upon her neck and bring them true freedom at last. All of them are shouting and cursing, crying for death in voices filled with rage and disgust.  
But the former queen does not spare them a glance.  
She kneels before the guillotine and lays her head under the blade.  
The chuch bells chime, clear and bold, exactly three times.  
The shouts grow louder.  
She smiles.  
"Oh- it's time for tea."  
The blade falls.

 

In later days the people would speak of her so-  
"Ah, yes, she was truly the Daughter of Evil."

**Author's Note:**

> OMG, this was probably a train wreck. Like, it's basically me trying to be poetic and failing. What makes it worse is that it was supposed to be a character study of Riliane when I started, but I just ended up trying to write the original story in a vaguely fairytale-ish style...:( I'm so sorry to anyone who read this. I just had to get it out of my system. Feel free to criticize- I'm a masochist who revels in harsh criticism.  
> (And if you actually liked this work...THANK YOU SO MUCH)  
> (Also, I am SO going to edit this when I stop being lazy)


End file.
